Drops of Jupiter
by Adrienne Drusilla Daae
Summary: Repost. The princess and the Showstopper have no history, right? There must be more here than meets the eye, and with a little help from the nWo and the newest Diva, Steph and Shawn discover what they've been missing. AU.


Author's Note: Sorry to all the people who were reading this during my "pissed off at ff.net" period. I just went back and checked this, and realized I left ya'll hanging. If you forgive me, I'll be very appreciative. Those people on the Yahoo group have read this already, but it is slightly revamped for continuity and some errors I've found.

Major thanks to Steph, beta extraordinaire, whose prodding prompted me to start on a sequel, and also revamp this. She owns the rights to Shawn's usage of the term "kitten". She's also the author behind "The Proposition", "Diary of a Ring Rat", and "It's Not the Spotlight". Go read her stuff. Now. I promise, you won't be disappointed.

Dedicated to Bryan, who first taught me the "Wanna buy a duck?" game. Taking that bad boy public was one of the funniest things we've done in a long time. And to those people insanely confused by the game, please don't dwell on it. It's a stupid game, and only makes sense when you play it.

The song belongs to Train, and not me. I've always loved the song, and it seems perfect for Shawn and Steph. All WWE people belong to Vinny Mac (also not me) and themselves. Michelle is my own creation, and could potentially be considered a Mary Sue, since her verbal patterns bear a resemblance to mine. 

After a long hibernation, my feedback whore is back with a vengeance, and she's hungry! Don't let her starve to death, kay? 

Title: Drops of Jupiter

Author: Adrienne Drusilla Daae

Rating: R, for my potty mouth, and adult content.

Genre: Drama/romance/angst. The Holy Trinity of my writing.

Distribution: Archived on ff.net's_wrestling_group, possibly Illusions, and maybe DT or Mary's archive. If you want it, let me know.

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_

_With drops of Jupiter in her hair_

_She acts like summer and walks like rain_

_Reminds me that there's a time to change . . . hey hey hey . . ._

"I can't go back, Shane! Not after what he did to me!"

Stephanie McMahon stood at the door to the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit. It was the night of the Vengeance PPV, and she was supposed to be returning to the WWE after 3 and a half months. Right now, though, she was scared stiff by the thought that the guys in the back wouldn't welcome her back, after the stunt she pulled to leave in the first place. She'd thrown a very public temper tantrum at her father to think up a reason for her to be off the air for a few months, and the guys hadn't appreciated the display.

The fans, of course, knew nothing about this. They thought she'd left because of the stipulations of the match between her, Chris Jericho, and Triple H. She'd lost the match, meaning she had to "leave the WWE". Others thought it was because of the game circulating the Internet: Billion Dollar Booty, or whatever it was called. Although the game was disgusting, it wasn't really why she'd walked out.

She'd actually left because of her own father, Vince McMahon. He was so convinced his new plans would equal ratings that he'd ignored his own daughter. Steph had pleaded and begged for weeks on end not to implement the plans, but he'd pushed her aside, saying her concerns were nothing but childish fears. She'd made the very public decision to join her brother on the inactive roster because of three very important people: Scott Hall, Hulk Hogan, and Kevin Nash . . . the nWo.

Quite simply, she hated them. Hulk Hogan was lecherous old man who chased after anything in a skirt. Steph wore skirts to school as a kid, and he simply assumed she was easy. He would make ignorant comments to her, and try and cop a feel every time she walked by him, regardless of the fact that she was barely out of her teens. Once, he'd pinned her against a wall, and nearly gotten up her skirt, but a timely sound tech had helped her make a quick getaway. Shane had made sure that Hogan never got within five feet of his sister after that incident, but Steph just felt uneasy around the man.

Scott Hall was just a jackass. He made fun of her all the time, when the company employed him. He'd call her "slut" or "cunt" every time he walked past, and was always hiking up his crotch in her direction. Of course, he never did it when Shawn Michaels or the rest of the Kliq were around, but those occasions were rare. Once, he'd made her cry in front of the entire roster, only stopping when Mark Calloway threatened to knock his teeth down his throat.

But Kevin Nash was another story. He'd always acted strange around her, being sweet and nice when it was just the two of them, and cracking jokes or ignoring her when he was near Scott. They'd eventually dated, but broke up when Steph caught him with a ring rat. They'd never spoken after that incident, but she'd heard from Jericho and Booker that he and Scott bashed her regularly in the WCW locker room. She loathed the man, but had agreed to work with him if he kept his comments to himself.

Since the return of her stay on the moon 

_She listens like spring, and she talks like June . . . hey hey hey_

But she was coming back now . . . God help her, she was coming back. She could never say no to her big brother, and when he begged her to accompany him on his return to the WWE, she agreed. He was coming back to the company after 7 long months out of the ring, and he was poised to make a grand entrance as the leader of a new faction. The Rock, Hulk Hogan (who'd turned his back on the nWo), Edge, Kane, and the newest Diva, Michelle, had teamed up to create sort of an anti-nWo, the Crew, and were set to announce the "secret leader" of their faction at Vengeance. The secret leader was none other than Shane, and it would be pretty consistent with his character, since he'd be going against Vince, as usual.

Steph, on the other hand, was actually going to be returning as the first female member of the nWo. The only reason she'd agreed to the role was because of the changes that had gone through the lineup of the nWo. She'd be working with Triple H (Paul Levesque), with whom she'd spent practically three years; X-Pac (Sean Waltman), who'd been a member of DX, and a friend of hers; Big Show (Paul Wight), who'd always been a nice guy around her; and Kevin Nash, who was the only drawback. She hoped he wouldn't pose a problem because of their history.

"Stephanie Marie McMahon! Will you relax? No one is going to yell at you for wanting to come back to work. Believe me, I think they'll be happy to see you, and even happier that the McMahon siblings are back in action.", Shane said, knocking her out of her reverie.

"Are you sure about that? What happens if Hogan comes near me? You know how very well that worked out the last time he worked for Dad." 

Shane's jaw set in a decidedly feral manner. "Hogan comes within twenty feet of you, he's getting beat to within an inch of his life. I'll personally make sure of that."

Stephanie hugged her brother. "You rule, Shane-O."

"Well, I do try, Stephy." He grinned, and ushered her into the arena. The McMahons were back in business. 

***************************************************************************************************************************

So tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way To see the lights all faded, and that heaven is overrated? 

Steph walked down the hallway to the nWo dressing room. She was told that all the guys were done changing, and were waiting for her to discuss their game plans. So far, Shane had been right: everyone had been happy to see her again, asking how she'd been, and being glad that  she was back. Matt and Jeff Hardy, two of her best friends, has spent twenty minutes trying to convince her to let them dye her hair in the nWo colors. Trish Stratus had let the cat out of the bag when the Carolina brothers were within earshot, and they wanted to "help" her fit in better. Trish had cajoled Stephanie into letting her in on the comeback plan, and agreed to be sworn to secrecy. Only Shane, Vince, Kevin, and Stephanie had known before.

She spent another half hour listening to Lillian Garcia gush about her new boyfriend Rob, even though she barely knew the blonde announcer. It felt strange, listening to Lillian, but Steph could admit that she enjoyed gossiping about guys for a change. She felt herself becoming happy for the first time in months. Being back at work just felt more energetic and fun than it had in the past. But it did have its drawbacks as well. She still had to put up with a few snide comments as she walked by in her miniskirt and boots. She'd gotten used to such behavior in the past, so it wasn't too much trouble to simply ignore it. Overall, it hadn't been as horrible an experience as she'd originally thought.

She made her way down the hall to the nWo's dressing room. She rounded the corner, and came face to face with one of the last people she'd ever expect to see backstage in the WWE: Shawn Michaels. She was completely floored by his being there . . . everyone knew about the infamous "Montreal Screwjob" where he'd supposedly cheated Bret Hart out of his WWF championship. Shawn had done his job, and never looked back. When he'd been sidelined with a back injury, no one had seen him backstage at an event since. She could still recognize him on sight, since he looked as good as ever. Her jaw dropped as she took in his black leather pants, nWo t-shirt, and DX-style hat. Apparently, she was going to be working with him, if the t-shirt was any indication . . . and also a fact that no one had informed her of.

"Whoa, slow down there, kitten . . . where're you going in such a rush?" Yup, same old Shawn, calling females "kitten" every two minutes. He disentangled himself good-naturedly from her, but she still caught him ogling her chest. She smiled inwardly; he really hadn't changed. He pulled back to study her face, and his jaw dropped. "Steph?"  
  


She smiled. "Yeah, it's me. What's wrong? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Shawn still looked at her in apprehension. Though he hadn't been there at the time, he'd still heard about Stephanie's very public walkout. Paul had told him it was over the debut of the nWo, and hello! Leader of the group! But he'd also noticed her appearance. The last two times he'd seen Stephanie, she'd looked radically different. His last day in the WWE, she'd still looked like . . . well, what she'd been at the time: a teenager, with a scrubbed innocence about her. But he'd also run into her at a party Paul had held a year ago, and she'd been completely changed. She wore a skirt that barely covered her ass; a slip of fabric one could call a shirt; teased and curled hair; and most noticeably, breast implants. Now, however, she looked nothing like either of the Stephanie McMahons he remembered.  

"Nothing, kitten. But I must say, you look good. The outfit agrees with you." Shawn was referring to the baby tee done in nWo black and white; the black miniskirt that fell to an inch below her ass; and the low-heeled ankle boots she wore. "I'm liking the hair much better than the last time I saw you.", he said, twirling a strand of straight-again hair around his index finger.

She blushed, because she'd always had a crush on Shawn Michaels . . . hell, what woman didn't? He wasn't called the Heartbreak Kid for nothing. And he certainly aged well, because she couldn't find anything about him that she didn't like. That gorgeous curly blonde hair was as touchable as ever. She had the urge to run her hands through it, and had to keep her hands safely at her sides. His devil-may-care attitude and cocky smirk had certainly survived the years, and she took comfort in the knowledge that others may change, but Shawn would always stay the same. Always eternally good-looking and unforgettable. One smile, one flash of those baby-blues, and she'd probably turn into a melting puddle of Stephy-ness. But the man was also eternally off-limits. Last she'd heard, he was married, and had kids. And that was a no-no . . . never mind how much she wanted him.

"So, why are you back here?" They laughed, having said it in unison.

Stephanie went first. "Well, I guess you've heard the story about how I walked out, right?" He nodded. "Well, you must be aware of the fact that I am incapable of saying no to my brother once he puts his mind to it. Shane's making his comeback tonight, and he begged and pleaded with me to come back with him. Since I couldn't say no, I had a talk with my father, and we straightened some things out."

Shawn nodded, knowing there was most definitely more to that story than she was letting on. He decided not to pursue it, knowing she'd just get upset with him if he did. "Your question regarded my return?" She nodded. "It's simple." He pointed to his nWo shirt. "4-life. Kev called me up when they fired Scott and Hogan turned face. He was concerned about what would happen to the group, and figured if he could convince someone to be their mouthpiece, it could mean ratings. He also knows I'd do anything I could to help him out. Hanging around Paul and the Kid is an extra bonus."

"What do you mean, mouthpiece? You're not wrestling?" Steph looked at him in disbelief. 

"You really haven't been watching these last few weeks, have you? I'm not cleared to wrestle yet."

She shook her head. "But you ran a school in Texas. Weren't you in the ring with your students?"

"Sure, but teaching isn't the same as being thrown around a ring for 20 minutes. And my students know to take it easy on me. But I've been told that I'm never going to wrestle again. My back is being held together by screws and bars, and the doctors don't want me wrestling until they're sure I won't kill myself. I've just been shooting my mouth off to get the guys fired up."

A door opened down the hall, and a very pissed off Kevin Nash walked out. "Stephanie! Where the hell have you been? We're supposed to be going over the spots for tonight, and you're twenty minutes late!"

Shawn glared at the door his friend disappeared into, and apologetically escorted Stephanie into the locker room.

"Don't worry, kitten. I'll take care of him for you.", he whispered as they entered the nWo locker room.

***************************************************************************************************************************

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? 

_One without a permanent scar?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

Steph cringed, already hating the nWo all over again. She'd barely been there for an hour, and already Kevin was treating her like shit. He glared at her continuously, until Paul and Shawn simultaneously lit into him as he closed the door.

"Kev! What the hell was that for? I was holding a conversation with the woman, and you come out there and scream at her! And what for? Cause she was late?", Shawn yelled.

Paul, meanwhile, was on the other side of Kevin, giving him a piece of _his_ mind. "Hey! Leave Stephanie alone! She's not some rat you can order around! And when the hell did you start caring about people being on time?"

Not one to be bullied, Kevin fired back at his two friends. "I'm trying to get everyone set for tonight! Vince wants this storyline to go spotless, and I can't guarantee that if one of the people involved is too busy flirting to do her job!" This comment only set the three of them off more, and the entire situation was threatening to erupt into a physical fight. 

Sean Waltman and Paul Wight sat on chairs further into the room, and both were quickly getting tired of the fighting that was going on. When it looked like Shawn was going to jump Kevin, they decided it was a good idea to separate the three men. They attempted to hold back Kevin, Shawn, and Paul, while Stephanie sank into the couch, head in her hands.

Sean attempted to talk some sense into the three men. "Hey! Stop fighting, you guys! Can't you hold a civilized conversation?"

"When you learn to stop being such a ditz, Kid, then talk to me about civilized conversation.", Shawn retorted.  
  


Sean shook his head, and pushed Shawn toward the couch, making him fall into place next to Stephanie. Wight, meanwhile, was holding both Kevin and Paul away from each other. Kevin had broken Wight's grip again, and taken a swing at Paul, and Wight finally pushed Kevin into a corner of the room, opposite Paul's chair.

He rumbled in a deep voice. "Now, you three are going to shut up, okay? The woman has been back in the company for what? 45 minutes? And you're already making idiots of yourselves! I don't want you to say one word to her, or to each other, until you're sure that you can do it like men, and not try and knock each other senseless." He looked down at Stephanie. "You okay, Stephy?"

She had to grin. Stephy was what most of the older guys in the back called her. She looked up and smiled thinly at him. "I'm fine."

Sean grinned at her. "Glad to hear it. Now, let's get down to business. Starting with, why is Steph sitting in our locker room?"

Kevin winced. Sometimes he wondered if the Kid hadn't taken too many hits to the head, because it was pretty hard to be that dense without head injury. "Why do you think, Kid? We're having a tea party, and I needed someone to be the mommy.", he quipped, earning duel snorts of laughter from Paul and Shawn. He grew serious as the rest of the group composed themselves. "Guys, I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of our little group . . . Stephanie McMahon."

Now that she's back from that soul vacation 

_Tracing her way through the constellations . . . hey hey_

_She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo_

_Reminds me that there's room to grow . . ._

The announcement was met with cheers all around, and Kevin waited till the applause died down before he continued. "First, we need to map out what we're all doing in the PPV. I know I've a match with Kane, right after the Rock/Taker piece. I've got the promo with you guys, and a run-in on Kane's promo. What about you, Paul?"

"I've got Kurtie-poo in what feels like the twentieth match we've done. I know I also have a vignette with Kurt and a promo with you guys. You know, Steph, I swear to God . . . Kurt's gotten worse since you've been gone. I think he misses you, and is terrorizing me to make up for it." Steph laughed. "Oh sure, it's funny when you're not the one being Angle Slammed into oblivion."

"What about you, Kid?", Kevin asked. 

Sean jumped around in a circle. "I'm fighting that psycho Shawn Stasiak. That freak is seriously messed up. I'm not kidding. The guy makes Raven look balanced."

Wight spoke up. "I've got a handicap match against Booker T and Goldust, so don't talk to me about freaks. Those two are really starting to piss me off. You know that Showpotamus crack wasn't in the script."

Shawn cracked up at the mention of Dusty's 'crocodile hunter' scene, and looked over at Paul, who was dissolving in laughter of his own. Once he'd composed himself, he replied to Kevin's question. "As for moi, I'm doing what I do best . . . piss people off!" The group laughed at Shawn's modesty. "I've got the promo with Edge and Hogan, and a scene with Rock and Michelle. Speaking of our newest little Diva, I don't know who she'd like to do more. Me, Kev, or Paul over there." The three men laughed at Shawn's comment, and he continued. "Nah . . . Michelle's a cool girl. I make fun of her far more than I should."

Steph spoke up quietly. "Kev? What am I doing?"

He looked down and over at her. "You didn't check with Vince?"

"No, he told me yesterday that I should check with you. He didn't want to tell me in case you guys had changed something last minute."

Kevin went over to his bag and pulled out the sides for tonight's show. Sides were their term for any scripts and notes pertaining to their characters. He flipped through them. "Sorry, I thought you'd have gotten them from your father, so I didn't make a note of where your stuff was. Lemme see, you're in the promo with Shawn, Michelle, and Rock. You're ringside for Paul's match after a run-in, and you and your brother open the show. That's about it, Steph."

She thanked him, and Kevin ducked out of the room to see if he could catch the tech guy. He had to switch the lighting for a promo, according to him, but Steph was just glad he was gone. She was still uneasy around him.

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere,_

_I'm afraid she might think of me as Plain old Jane_

_Told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly_

_So he never did land . . ._

Paul jumped up and hugged Stephanie, lifting her off the couch and twirling her around in a circle. "It is so great that you're back! I missed working with you, babe."

She smiled at him. "Me too." Paul was one of her favorite people in the entire world, and also one of the best to work with. She'd really enjoyed all the time they spent together, both in the ring and out. And Paul was so sweet, it really wasn't that hard to pretend she was in love with him. She laughed in remembrance of the first time they'd had to kiss on live television. He was absolutely mortified at having to kiss the boss's daughter right in front of him. So he kept messing up, and they'd have to do the spot over and over again. But Steph didn't mind . . . it's not like she'd had a problem smooching a gorgeous guy repeatedly.

What she did have a little problem with was Paul's propensity for practical jokes. To try and alleviate some of the tension, he'd eaten a slice of pizza with tons of garlic dumped on it, immediately before the scene where they were supposed to kiss. That had been the beginning of their prank war, and Steph couldn't wait to get back at him for the last stunt he pulled. At her last house show before she left, he'd put itching powder in her bra.

"What have you been doing with yourself?", Paul asked. 

She shrugged. "Not much. I got my house painted, took Shane to dinner for his birthday, and just generally vegged out in front of the TV for a change. Why? You freaks miss me?"

Wight laughed. "Yes, Stephy. We missed your sparkling wit.", he said dryly.

Sean also came up and hugged her. "Always liked you better than your dumbass brother. What'd you have to bring him back for? We couldn't have another blissful Shane-free month or two of existence?"

"Ooh, I'll tell Shane you said that!", she teased, knowing it was just Sean continuing his Shane bashing. Sean and Shane's joking feud went all the way back to the days before DX, when Shane was a referee and Sean was the 1-2-3 Kid.

"I got a question for you, Paul . . .", she yelled over in his direction.

"Oh God . . . tell me you're not going where I think you're going with that statement.", he pleaded.

"Do you wanna buy a duck?"

Paul shot her a death glare. He hated the duck game, and called it quite possibly the most annoying thing on the face of the earth . . . other than Rock's singing. The "Wanna Buy a Duck" game had made the rounds backstage after Stephanie'd heard it in school one day. It had been going strong backstage ever since. Every single wrestler on the roster knew the game, and you could walk into any room and hear it. The rookies were not exempt. If you were new, you damn well better find someone to teach you the game. Paul was right . . . it was the stupidest thing ever invented, but it was Steph's legacy. Not just anyone could be credited with introducing the duck game.

Stephanie spoke in a singsong voice. "I didn't quite hear your response . . ."

Paul sighed melodramatically. "A what?"

Steph grinned at him. "A duck."

"Does it quack?", he asked. 

"Of course it quacks . . . IT'S A DUCK!", she yelled, causing Paul to visibly wince.

The game continued in its 'round' format, each person repeating what the previous person asked. When they'd made it all the way around the room, they all collapsed into hysterics. Sean spoke up from his position on the couch, mockingly wiping tears from his eyes. "It just hasn't been the same without you, Steph."

Wight nodded in agreement, and gently patted her on the shoulder. She caught Kevin's wink out of the corner of her eye. He stood near Wight, resting his 7-foot frame on the doorway. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad to work with after all. Paul certainly seemed happy that she was back, and was being sort of clingy: touching her shoulder, playing with her hair . . . little things that she just guessed she never noticed before. Steph decided not to make any more out of it than that, and resolved that she'd just attempt to have fun with her friends.

But one person was conspicuously absent from this little gathering: Shawn.

***************************************************************************************************************************

But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? 

_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day_

_And head back to the Milky Way?_

He stood off in the corner, watching Stephanie and Paul. He couldn't believe he'd been so blind. He'd followed the WWE after his departure, and believed the relationship and subsequent marriage of Stephanie and Paul to be pure fiction. Something that the writers had cooked up to spice up the storyline at the time. But looking at them now . . . he saw it as plain as day. They had it bad for one another, and that meant Stephanie was off-limits to everyone, and most especially him. Paul was his best friend, and he'd be damned if he was going to betray Paul like that.

Shawn had done some shitty things in his life, and wasn't proud of most of them. He was no angel, but one thing he'd never done was taken a woman away from a committed relationship. That was a low he simply refused to sink to, since he knew how it felt to be on the receiving end. Becca had divorced him for another man, claiming he never spent enough time with her, and saying his return to wrestling was the final straw. He'd been served his divorce papers scarcely two weeks ago, and ever since, had been extremely bitter towards his now ex-wife. She'd lectured him over and over again about never cheating on her with any of the people he worked with, yet found it perfectly acceptable to sleep with another man while she was still married to Shawn. Yeah, you could say he was bitter . . . and Stephanie didn't deserve any more bitterness in her life.

He'd always loved her, even when she was a fresh-faced twenty-year-old working in Daddy's office. She was so cute and sweet that it was impossible for anyone not to fall for her. But Shawn had fallen, and fallen hard. He had no clue why, because despite the cuteness, she wasn't his normal type. She wasn't sultry or played the vixen, but despite that, he liked her. And that was very dangerous. Stephanie was Vince's daughter, and that meant the ultimate in 'you can look, but you can't touch'. There was also the slight fact that he was older than her, and when she grew up some more, he was already married. So, he chalked it up to it being a one-time infatuation, and tried to forget how much he'd cared about Stephanie. 

But now . . . well, _now_ was a whole different ballgame. She was quite the woman now, and apparently didn't even know it. Hell, she'd actually blushed when he complimented her outfit. If she had any clue on God's green earth what that leather miniskirt did to men . . . she wouldn't be nearly so innocent. He couldn't help noticing how nicely it brought out her curves, and couldn't help running his gaze over her with something akin to worship. The pale skin . . . those mischievous blue eyes . . . the smile that blew him away. She was so beautiful, and didn't even know it.

"Shawn? Are you all right" His head jerked up and met the deep blue gaze of Stephanie McMahon herself. "What are you doing out in the hall by yourself?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah . . . I'm fine. I was just catching some air, Stephanie." She suddenly broke out into a huge grin, and as happy as he was to see her smile, he was confused as well. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Stephanie's grin got even wider. "You, stupid! Do you realize that's the first time you've called me by my name? Normally, it's 'kitten', or 'kid', or 'Steph' . . . but never my full name."

Shawn mentally kicked himself. "Oh, jeez. You mean I've actually never called you Stephanie?" He couldn't believe his idiocy. Now he had absolutely no chance with her. She deserved better than a man who'd never used her full name. 

"Nope", she said. "Don't worry, I don't care what you call me. I mean, as long as it's not rude or obscene . . ." Steph winced as she caught herself babbling. What was it about this man that turned her into a babbling ten year old? She tried to salvage what was left of her maturity by looking down at her watch instead of at him. "Shawn! The PPV starts in twenty minutes, and I'm not even changed! Shit!" She started running off down the hall.

"Okay. I guess I'll-", Shawn started. 

"See you later!", she called over her shoulder, leaving behind a very confused, very frustrated Shawn Michaels slowly thudding his head against a wall.

And tell me, did Venus blow your mind? 

_Was it everything you wanted to find?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

Stephanie was running around in her usual state of before-show panic. It was an hour into the show, she had a scene to do in 2 minutes, and she had yet to find her brush. Her hair, back in its natural stick-straight state, was looking more like a rat's nest with every passing minute, and she was ready to start crying if she couldn't find the damn brush.

A knock sounded on the door, and a female voice called in. "Um . . . Miss McMahon? You have a promo to shoot in two minutes, and we're all ready." It was muffled due to Mark's revving up his bike in preparation for his match.

Steph yelled back through the closed door, her head still buried in her clothing bag. "Come in here, will you? I can't hear you over Mark's goddamn motorcycle!" The door creaked open, and a young girl in black leather pants, and a t-shirt emblazoned with "Scream Queen" walked cautiously into the room. She carried a black messenger bag and fidgeted with the strap of it. Steph looked up, and immediately took pity on the obviously nervous girl. "Now, what did you need, sweetie?" 

The girl relaxed perceptibly, and stopped twirling a strand of curly black hair around her finger. "I'm Michelle Blake, the new Diva. It's nice to finally meet you. Everyone's been going nuts because of you and Shane's comeback."

Steph grinned. "Likewise, Michelle. I know I'm going to be working with you for the next few weeks, so call me Stephanie. Okay?"

Michelle nodded. "Well, Shane sent me down to tell you that we're going to be shooting the promo in two minutes. I'm sorry to hurry you up, but your brother told me I'd better remind you or we'd never get started."

She grinned wryly. "Oh, he did, did he? Well, Shane O better learn not to get his boxers in a twist over my lateness, cause he's gonna have to deal with it."

"Oh, he knows, Miss McMahon. But he told me to tell you if you were late, he'd 'tell Pat on you', whatever that means."

"First off, I told you, call me Steph. And second, my brother knows he damn well better not threaten me with telling Pat Patterson anything." She continued rooting through her bag. "Jesus H. Christ! Where the hell is my brush? I look like I have an Afro!"

Michelle giggled, then sobered up at Stephanie's look. "I'm sorry, but you look really funny like this. And if you want a brush that badly, all you have to do is ask." She produced a silver brush from her shoulder bag.

Steph took it gratefully. "Thank you. You are an absolute savior!"

The younger girl smirked. "I have my moments."

Steph finished up with the brush, and handed it back to Michelle. They took off down the hall to the dressing room where the promo was being shot. Shane, Shawn, and Dwayne were waiting for them. Shane gave his sister a glare, and told her to get in position. She retorted with a muttered comment about sticks in uncomfortable places. Shawn walked up next to her, and gave her a conciliatory smile.

"Hey kitten, you alright? You look a little frazzled, and something tells me it's not just your brother." He'd switched the DX-style hat for a black cowboy hat, and everyone could see his obvious affinity for the thing.

She smiled back, glad someone was asking after her welfare for once. "It's just my usual pre-shoot panic. I'll be fine."

He squeezed her shoulders and grinned. "If it helps any . . . I missed your pre-shoot jitters. I like my daily dose of Stephy, even if you go a little nuts every now and then."

Stephanie blushed hotly. "Thanks, Shawn."

*************************************************************************************************************************** Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken? 

_Your best friend always sticking up for you_

_Even when I know you're wrong . . ._

The live shoot got underway, and everything seemed to be going well. Steph didn't forget any of her lines, and Dwayne was playing off her perfectly. This was so much easier than the in-ring promo she and Shane had done to start the show. That was almost completely unscripted, and they'd almost forgotten a key part of it, which was salvaged by Shane.

Michelle was much better than Steph had originally thought. She'd seen the young Diva in action, and admitted that the girl could run circles around her in the ring. She seemed to have an affinity for teeth-clenching maneuvers that could have been ripped from old ECW tapes.  There was a reason they called her the "Scream Queen". But Michelle impressed her even more with her promo skills. There was a sticky moment when Shawn was late for a cue that Dwayne ran completely amok with. Michelle helped out, making the rest of the promo up off the top of her head . . . 

"The Rock thinks that Stephanie McMahon needs to have her head examined for joining the now. Isn't that the same group that was supposed to have been poison for the WWE? And doesn't your father own the WWE? Doesn't that mean bad things for you? What the hell is the Rock missing?"

Shit. This was getting way out of hand. All they were supposed to do was accuse her of spying on them when she showed up in their dressing room, and this was nowhere near what they were supposed to be saying. It wasn't like they could stop and re-shoot the thing, since it was a live PPV. And where the hell was Shawn? He was supposed to burst into the room and "rescue her from Rocky's clutches"! Any time now, Shawn . . .

"Yeah, Stephanie . . . while you're at it, why don't you also tell Rocky how you've been spying on us for your little now friends! We all know how you treated your brother tonight. I wouldn't put espionage past you." Thank you Michelle. Now the lines had some sense in them. 

"I . . . I . . think you should leave me alone!" She backed toward the wall, Dwayne advancing on her. "I wasn't spying on you . . . I didn't even know that this was your dressing room! I thought it was Shane's! And what business is it of yours what I do?"

"It's the Rock's business what the Billion Dollar Princess does if it involves his friends. The Rock thinks that you should-" 

Dwayne never finished the sentence, because at that moment, Shawn chose to finally make his entrance. Steph tossed off a mental Hallelujah at his impeccable timing.

"Shane, you've got some explaining to-" Shawn spotted Dwayne and Stephanie, and strode over to them, knocking Dwayne out of Steph's immediate vicinity. "And what the hell do you think you're doing in here? Get away from her!" He was most definitely making up his movements, because he put an arm around her, and drew her to him. Not that she was complaining, or anything. "Steph, did this jerk do anything to you?"

Michelle spoke up derisively. "No, but why would he want to? God knows where she's been . . ."

Shawn's blue eyes hardened in anger, and he glared daggers at the petite Diva across from him. "I don't recall asking you, Miss Gang Bang." Most definitely not in the script. 

"What did you call me?", the girl asked.

Shawn decided to go with the statement he'd made, ignoring Dwayne's confused looks. "You heard me, sweetheart. You've probably shtupped half the roster . . . including the guys in the Crew, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

He felt a twinge of regret at his harshness, as Michelle shot him a wounded look. He liked the girl, and didn't know why he got so pissed off when she followed the script and insulted Stephanie.

Dwayne continued with the promo, shoving Shawn into the wall. "Shawn Michaels, you piece of shit! Don't you dare insult one of the members of the Crew!"

Shawn knocked Dwayne off of him. "I'll do what I damn well please . . . and what the hell are you gonna do about it, Rocky?" He returned his arm around Stephanie as Dwayne didn't say a word. "That's what I thought . . . no one has the stones to face the nWo without backup. C'mon, Steph . . . we'll just have to watch this piss-poor excuse for a human being get his ass handed to him by Taker later tonight." 

They strolled off, Shawn's arm still around Stephanie, holding her close.

Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance Or five hour phone conversations? 

_The best soy latte that you've ever had . . . and me?_

The rest of the night went surprisingly well. Steph was ringside for the end of Paul's match with Kurt, cheering him on, just like old times. She'd run in about three-quarters of the way through the match, right when Kurt had legitimately almost broken Paul's ankle, and slipped him his sledgehammer. Five minutes and three tug-of-wars later, Kurt was laid out like a slab of meat, and Paul had picked up the victory. They'd even done a short promo afterward where they agreed to 'put aside their differences for the good of the nWo'.

Kevin's match was interesting, to say the least. She and Shawn were ringside, along with Rocky and Michelle, and Shawn was guarding her like a jealous pitbull. Any time anyone on the Crew made a move toward her, Shawn would be there, shoving them away. When Steph had jumped onto the ring apron to distract the ref like she was supposed to, Michelle had screwed up and pushed Steph off the apron the wrong way. She was supposed to wait until Kevin stumbled over after Kane booted him, and shove Stephanie into Kevin. But since Michelle pushed her away from the ropes, Steph found herself careening toward the floor. She would have found herself with a nasty concussion had she hit the floor, but Shawn turned around and caught her at the last minute. She landed in his arms, chest heaving from fright.

"What the hell was that for?", Shawn yelled at Michelle. The girl just looked at them, the smirk on her face showing that she was staying in character. Not getting an answer, he shifted Stephanie in his arms, and looked her over for any injuries. She looked fine, no pun intended, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "You alright, kitten?"

Steph's head was whirling. She'd been pretty freaked when she'd unexpectedly been hurled toward the floor, and pleasantly surprised when she'd found herself in Shawn's arms. Being in his arms was a wonderful experience, and one that she was going to exploit to its fullest potential. "I feel a little dizzy", she said truthfully, "But other than that, I'm fine."

He said nothing, just held her tight, and Steph simply laid back enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in his arms and his scent. She caught a smirk from Michelle, who mouthed "Lucky bitch!" to her behind Shawn's back. Steph just grinned back, silently thanking Michelle for bringing this about.

After the show, Shawn walked her back to her dressing room. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

She laughed softly. "I'm fine, Shawn. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"All right", he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Listen, Steph . . . you don't by any chance want to go and grab something to eat with me? Cause I haven't eaten in a while, and there's a great place three blocks away."

She smiled inwardly. This was turning out to be one of the best nights she'd had in a while. "Sure, I'd love to."

Shawn waited while she changed, and they started off for the parking lot when she was finished. They hopped in Shawn's black Jag, and Steph had to appreciate the man's taste in cars. She'd once owned a Jag, a white one, but the thing had been a bitch to get cleaned. They drove up to a bar in downtown Detroit, and Steph was on cloud nine. She was sitting next to Shawn F'ing Michaels . . . and he'd invited her out to eat. His blond hair flew in the breeze from the open window, and he looked so completely relaxed that she wondered if it was the same person. He'd changed toward her when he'd left. He certainly wasn't acting like the Shawn she remembered. Flirting, teasing . . . and wasn't he supposed to be married?

***************************************************************************************************************************

Well, tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? 

_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_

_And head back toward the Milky Way . . . _

Shawn walked Stephanie into the bar, his hand on the small of her back. He convinced himself that it was only for her protection. You didn't know what kind of people were walking the streets of Detroit. They sat at a high-top table, and a bleach-blonde waitress asked for drink orders. Stephanie ordered a margarita, and Shawn figured he had damn well better keep sober. He didn't trust himself with the combination of Stephanie and alcohol. The woman was tempting enough on her own, never mind adding alcohol to the mix . . . but when it came to Stephanie, he didn't have a clear head in the first place. He was definitely going to be sticking to water for the night.

They'd sat there, talking about everything from work to sports teams to the musical Guys and Dolls, as the hours wore on. After three hours of talking, he'd finally gotten up the courage to ask her to dance. Shawn had seriously questioned his own sanity after that move: dancing with Stephanie McMahon while she was wearing leather pants and a backless tank top was not a good way to get his thoughts off her. He was surprised he'd held off on throwing her on top of the table, and making her scream his name for this long. She'd slipped off her stool, amazingly steady on her feet after five drinks.

In answer to his unspoken question, she replied: "It's an advantage having an older brother with a high tolerance for alcohol. You develop one yourself, and you learn what knocks you out and what doesn't. If I'd been sipping screwdrivers instead of apple martinis, I'd probably be incoherent and shirtless, doing the mambo on top of our table."

Shawn closed his eyes, trying to get _that_ visual out of his head. "Useful thing to know."

A pulsating Latin song began screaming through the speakers, and Shawn winced inwardly. The fates were against him tonight . . . his two biggest vices were women and Latin music. God help him when he mixed the two together, because it never failed to get him into trouble. Becca had once caught him salsa dancing with a redhead one night at a club while she was in the restroom, and he hadn't heard the end of it for at least a month. This was definitely not good.

They'd made it to the dance floor, and being pressed against Stephanie was not helping Shawn's control. This situation was rapidly approaching all kinds of bad. He did _not_ need to be involved with a woman this soon after his divorce. He did not need this woman to be his boss's daughter. And he especially did not need it to be Stephanie McMahon.

But he couldn't deny how well they moved together. Their hips moved fluidly in time to the beat of the song, and he barely had to lead Stephanie into a turn or dip, because she anticipated him so well. But Shawn was having a difficult time figuring out what to do with his hands. He started out with a hand on her hip, making a conscious effort not to move it anywhere, and captured the hand that wasn't resting on his shoulder with his own. His hand dwarfed her small one, and the electric sensation flowing through their joined hands made him shiver.

Stephanie seemed to be intent upon driving him crazy with the placement of her other hand. First, it had rested on his upper back, then on his shoulder. It would rest one moment, then snake up to intertwine with his hair. God, if she didn't stop that soon, things were going to get very awkward. Luckily, he put a minute amount of space between them as a faster-paced song came on. Unluckily, Steph was an extremely . . . stimulating . . . dancer.

She ran her hands over her body, gyrating to the music. He could nearly feel the silk of her shirt as it slid under her hands, and against her body. He couldn't help pulling her closer to him when she ran her hands up the back of her neck to scoop up thick masses of chestnut hair. He hooked a finger into the belt loops of her leather pants, and held her as far close, and as far away as his over stimulated brain would allow. 

Their dancing was bordering on provocative, and he didn't know if he wanted to go there. She was with Paul, and he would never forgive himself if he was responsible for stealing his best friend's woman. He kept repeating it over and over in his head: 'She's with Paul . . . she's with Paul . . .' But Stephanie wasn't helping his resolve by the way she was dancing, or the way she'd occasionally brush her full breasts against his chest. Shawn closed his eyes, and silently rejoiced when the song ended. Now was his chance to make a graceful exit, drive her back to her hotel room, and get himself into his own . . . away from the temptation of Stephanie McMahon.

And tell me, did you sail across the sun? 

_Did you make it to the Milky Way _

_To see the lights all faded and that heaven is overrated?_

They drove in silence back to the hotel all the WWE employees stayed at, and Stephanie wondered what she'd done wrong. Shawn hadn't said more than a few words to her since they'd left the bar. She hoped she hadn't gone too far with her dancing. It had been pure torture, not touching him. Especially when he was so close, and they could have attributed it to the alcohol she'd had earlier. But something inside Steph refused to let herself do that to someone she considered a friend, no matter how ungodly attractive he was.

She'd never seen a man she'd call beautiful before, even with all the good-looking guys in the WWE. They were handsome, cute, hot, gorgeous, attractive, and sexy . . . but none she'd call beautiful. Except for Shawn. Shawn Michaels was someone she'd call beautiful, with his long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, the heart-stoppingly sexy grin, and his face that never seemed to change or grow older. It was in his dress: the cowboy hat that he so obviously loved to wear, and the tight jeans he knew made all the women drool. It was in his manner of speech, how he called every woman he'd ever met "kitten" . . . and how he naturally flirted with every woman within fifty feet of him. But most of all, his beauty lied in how genuinely caring he was about everyone. He made you feel special . . . and that's what Stephanie wanted. A man who made her feel different from the other women he'd dated, and who would treat her as a woman, and not a child.

But she couldn't have Shawn Michaels, for so many reasons. Mainly because the man was married, and that was something she couldn't just overlook. She wasn't the slut that people thought she was, and who she portrayed herself as on television. Stephanie simply couldn't take what belonged to another woman, and wasn't capable of disregarding someone's feelings like that. She just didn't have that vicious streak in her that everyone simply assumed was a McMahon trait because of her father. Shawn's wife didn't deserve to have another woman after her man, and his son needed his father. Stephanie simply steeled herself to admit that her and Shawn weren't meant to be.

She'd had feelings for Shawn ever since she'd met him, one night in Orlando, Florida, before a show. She'd been barely sixteen at the time, and very taken with the charming young wrestler. But her father had put his foot down a long time ago: no dating the employees, especially not while you were still a teenager and Daddy's little girl. At the time, she hadn't seen the harm in a crush, and she'd been painfully shy whenever Shawn was around. And that was pretty much all the time. He'd come into her father's office every day, and greet her with a "Hey there, kitten." She'd missed a lot of things about him over the years, but she'd especially missed the nickname he'd given her. It didn't matter that he called every female between 16 and 50 that . . . to her adolescent brain, it was her special name.

But God, did she want him still. There was just something about Shawn that made you want to pull him into a dark corner and rip off all his clothes then and there. Of course, she couldn't do that. Friends did not jump their other friends' bones. It didn't stop her from dreaming, though. She'd always imagined what it would be like. She somehow knew it would involve Shawn's experienced hands divesting her of clothing, and giving her a reason to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. That possibility was steadily dwindling down to just about nil, and they had yet to reach the hotel.

***************************************************************************************************************************

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? 

_One without a permanent scar?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

He walked her up to her room, knowing full well that this was not one of his better ideas. But he'd grown up knowing that you always walk a lady to her door. Stephanie looked so withdrawn and sad that he wondered if he'd done something wrong. She had too many problems already, what with her family and the business, and he didn't want to cause her additional pain. She fumbled through her purse, obviously looking for her room key. After a few minutes of cursing and rearranging her purse, she'd found it.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight . . .", she said softly.

He nodded, resisting the overpowering urge to shove her against the door, and kiss her like the world was going to end tomorrow. "Yeah. I guess this is it, kitten."

Stephanie bit her lip, wondering if she would be out of line if she kissed him. He was married, but friends gave each other goodnight kisses, right?

"Goodnight, Steph", Shawn said, beginning to walk away.

Steph called after him, panicked. "Wait!" He walked back with a curious look in his eyes, and stopped facing her. "I . . . uh . . .", she stammered, something Shawn found sort of cute. "I just wanted to say that I had a good time, and I hope I didn't get too drunk on you, and if I said anything out of line that I don't remember, I'm sorry, so I guess-"  
  


She couldn't complete her sentence, because Shawn had given in to the little diatribe inside his head, backed her against the door to her hotel room, and kissed her hotly. His mouth wrapped around hers, and he could swear she tasted like espresso, even though she hadn't even had coffee at the bar. 

He broke the kiss, mentally smacking himself for making out with his best friend's girlfriend. Shit . . . Paul was going to kill him!

"Look, Steph . . . I'm sorry if I-"

This time, it was Shawn who was cut off. Stephanie had yanked him by the belt loops, and pulled him flush against her. He completely lost himself in her kiss, suppressing a moan when she simultaneously slipped her tongue into his mouth, and her leg between his. He pressed her harder against the door, and ran a hand down the length of her body. Stephanie tangled a hand in his hair, knocking off the black cowboy hat, which didn't even register in Shawn's lust-filled brain. Somehow, the door had opened, and they were inside her hotel room, still not coming up for air, and Shawn snatching his hat from the hallway floor before the door slammed shut behind him.

Shawn backed her to the couch, and landed on top of her, weight braced on his forearms, and the taste of her branded into his mouth. He could never forget this moment, even if he regretted it in the morning. She shifted position, grinding his pelvis against her, and he had to resist screaming for mercy. If this was wrong, let the gods strike him dead now, because this was the first time since his divorce that he'd actually felt like he was living life again.

But as much as this felt right, he had to stop. He stopped kissing her, and eased her off of him. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. She knelt across from him, looking like she was going to cry.

"Stephanie, this isn't right.", he began.

"You're absolutely right, Shawn . . . this shouldn't have happened. I don't know-"

He shushed her by putting a finger to her lips. "No, this is my fault. I don't regret kissing you. I've wanted to do that for a very long time. But this was wrong . . ."

"Wait . . . you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yes, I did, even though Paul's probably going to murder me when I tell him I kissed his girlfriend." Stephanie burst into laughter, Shawn looking at her like she'd just grown an extra arm out of her head. "What's so funny?! Kitten, Paul's going to kill me for this, and you're sitting there giggling!"

Stephanie calmed down enough to choke out a response. "You . . . you think Paul and I are together?", she said, bursting out into laughter again. Shawn nodded, not understanding what she was getting at. Steph composed herself, and answered in a reasonably calm voice. "Shawn, I'm not with Paul. He's a very good-looking man, but we happen to just be friends, and nothing's going to change about that." 

Shawn gaped in disbelief. He'd been so sure that they were together . . . A predatory grin came over his features, and he backed her down to the couch, capturing her mouth with his own once again.

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day? 

And did you fall from a shooting star . . . fall from a shooting star? 

As much as Stephanie would have given anything to continue this activity, that little voice inside her head kept nagging her to stop. The man was married, with a kid, and again . . . not good to play smoochies with a guy who was married. Oh, what the hell was a conscience good for anyway? All it did was fuck with her . . . and she could think of someone much more suited to that activity.

"Stop!", she gasped, struggling upright and trying desperately to ignore Shawn's hurt look. "I can't do this! It's not right . . ."

He looked at her sadly. "How is it not right?"

"Shawn, we both know you're married. Hell, everyone in the federation came to your wedding, and I couldn't become involved with a married man, even if it was you."

She then got the shock of her life. Shawn burst into laughter practically identical to her earlier outburst. "I guess it didn't make the rounds backstage. Jeez, back in the day this would've only taken days to get around, not weeks. I'm not married, kitten . . . my divorce was finalized a few weeks ago."

Her jaw dropped. He wasn't married? Really?

He laughed again. She was so cute when she was shocked. "Of course. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. I don't lie to people I love, kitten."

Shawn Michaels didn't say those words lightly, and he just hoped she wouldn't abuse that fact: that he really did love her. He'd been so relieved when he found out she wasn't with his best friend, and now he had the chance to love again, with someone he'd loved what seemed like forever. None of this would have happened if her brother hadn't dragged her kicking and screaming back into the WWE. Come to think of it, hadn't Shane called him up last week and asked him how the divorce proceedings were going? Steph really did have a good guy for a brother, and was quite the angel herself. She'd been the first woman to treat him like just another man, not Shawn Michaels, the Heartbreak Kid . . . and for that, he loved her all the more. Shawn tipped up her chin to look him in the eye, then kissed her softly, just to prove his point. 

Stephanie's heart jumped into double time. Shawn Michaels loved her? Her? Stephanie McMahon? He couldn't have known how much she needed someone to simply love her for her . . . instead of her family or money. He couldn't have known how much Kevin and Andrew had broken her heart, and that she'd pretty much given up on falling in love again. At least, until she'd met up with Shawn Michaels again. She held him to her, and spent the rest of the night telling him exactly how much she'd wanted to hear those words from him.

And were you lonely looking for yourself out there? 

THE END!!!!!


End file.
